


A Quiet Life

by PenguinofProse



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, beard discussions, kind of, shaving Bellamy, shaving kisses, with or without the beard?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:29:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28735761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenguinofProse/pseuds/PenguinofProse
Summary: Written for 100 fics for BLM. Post S6 canon divergence. Bellamy gives Madi a history lesson, and Clarke helps Bellamy to shave.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake & Madi, Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Clarke Griffin & Madi
Comments: 30
Kudos: 140
Collections: The t100 Writers for BLM Initiative





	A Quiet Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shirohige](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shirohige/gifts).



> Here's another fic written for 100 fics for BLM! As ever, come find us or get in touch if you want to find out more. This request was for a post S6 canon divergence with Bellamy giving Madi a history lesson and Clarke helping him to shave. Huge thanks to Zou for betaing it. Happy reading!

**Here's a link you might like to check out! There's a couple of Bellarke ideas on there at the mo with me as writer that I'll be writing as soon as someone prompts them!<https://t100fic-for-blm.carrd.co/>**

Clarke doesn't know how to live a quiet life.

She never has, really. There's a reason she wanted to pursue a career in medicine, even when she lived back in the more controlled environment of the Ark. That seemed like an active and busy sort of an occupation. And sure, she was living peacefully for six years in Shallow Valley, but she still wouldn't have called it _quiet_. There was a vibrant young child to take care of, above all.

But Madi's rather older now, recently a teenager, and has no need of Clarke following her everywhere. Sanctum is peaceful, more or less, with only occasional petty squabbles between old enemies to keep things lively.

The thing Clarke finds most distressing about this quiet life? Genuinely the biggest concern she has to contend with, these days, is musing over her probably-unrequited love for her best friend. She allowed herself to wonder, when Bellamy first broke up with Echo earlier in the year, whether maybe that meant something for her. But at no point in the last six months has he made anything even vaguely resembling a move, and so it is that her life has continued quietly.

It's not that she's averse to peace, of course. She thinks it's a most desirable aim. She just has no clue what to do with herself when there is no life-or-death crisis to solve. What is her purpose, if no one needs saving this week?

She is startled from her reverie by the sound of Madi bundling through the front door.

"Hey Clarke." She shouts robustly down the hallway.

Clarke finds herself smiling at that. Her daughter is a lot more confident now than she was in the immediate aftermath of that ordeal with Sheidheda.

"Hello, Madi." She calls rather more sensibly. "How was school? How was soccer?"

Madi wanders in pulling a face. "School was slow. You taught me too much in Shallow Valley - the other kids are still catching up."

Clarke laughs, even as she goes to hug Madi. "I won't apologise for that. And your friends? Your soccer practice?"

"Great." Madi says, more enthusiastic. "It was really fun. I scored three goals. And then I bumped into Bellamy on the way home and invited him over for the evening."

No. Hang on a moment. That was a question about soccer. Clarke knows - she asked it. So how exactly has Madi managed to skip ahead to inviting Bellamy over?

"You did what?" Clarke asks, tone as level as she can manage. It's not that the idea makes her nervous or anything. Bellamy comes over occasionally, and she sees him around the village a lot. It's just that she feels caught on the back foot, here, by this unexpected development.

"I invited him over. You're always saying I can invite friends over."

Clarke hums. She really meant other thirteen-year-olds, when she said that.

"He asked how school was and I started moaning about how boring history class was." Madi explains, shrugging. "He said to let him know if I wanted to learn about Roman emperors instead some time, and it just made sense to invite him over."

"Yes. Sure. Of course. It'll be nice to see him." Clarke agrees. She can deal with this. She has led the human race before now. She shouldn't be so flustered at the idea that her crush is popping over to visit.

The more she thinks about it, the more she thinks it isn't just that. There's something about the way Madi has issued the invitation, almost as if the two people she loves the most in this life are conspiring against her, somehow. Is it strange that she feels almost left out of their plans?

"Yeah. He seemed pretty keen to stop by. I think he's lonely, you know."

Clarke nods slowly. She's been feeling a bit lonely, too. It's all very well having friends in the village, but she spent much of her youth living in close proximity to her parents and then the hundred. Even in Shallow Valley, she and Madi spent all their time together. It's rather different, these days, to be home alone so much.

Maybe she should invite him to stop by more often. Surely she's brave enough for that? Surely, after the life she has lived, she cannot lack the confidence, now, to invite her closest friend over for lunch a couple of times a week?

She'll do that, she decides. When he's here tonight, she'll have a go at reaching out to him. Just because he's made no kind of romantic move doesn't mean he wouldn't say yes to spending more friendly time with her.

At least, she hopes he wouldn't.

….

Bellamy knocks on the door scarcely an hour later. Clarke isn't quite sure that's what Madi meant when she invited him over for the evening, because she thinks it is really still more _afternoon_ by any sensible definition of the word. But as it is, she's not complaining, so she invites him in with a smile.

And a hug. She reaches out to hug him, too. She just can't resist, OK? It's not as if he objects.

"Welcome." She tells him. "Have you eaten? Want me to make an extra plate for you?"

He looks a little lost at that question. "I'm only here to teach Madi some history -"

"Don't give me that." She teases cheerfully. "I've been thinking I should invite you over for lunch more often. Come on, stay for supper?"

He doesn't hold out any longer. He nods, smiling warmly. "Sure. I'd like that. And lunch sounds great. You know you're welcome at my place any time, right?"

She nods. She does know that, in theory.

He presses the issue. "I mean it. I know it feels different here than it did at the dropship or Arkadia where we were all living on top of each other and would just hang out all the time. I guess - I've been kind of surprised that we don't see more of each other." He offers, eyes averted.

"Yeah. I've been thinking that a lot recently, too." She agrees. "It would be good to spend more time together."

His eyes dart back to meet her gaze. He's smiling, now, that warm and true Bellamy smile she used to find rather got her flustered as a younger woman.

She's not sure it does make her flustered, now, so much as incredibly nostalgic.

It's at exactly that moment, of course - just as she and Bellamy are remembering to talk about how much they fundamentally _like_ each other, she thinks cynically - that Madi appears in the hallway.

"Bellamy!" She cries, and throws herself at him in a hug. It's not the same kind of hug as he and Clarke share, of course - it's rather more energetic and rather less intimate.

"Hey, kid. You ready for the greatest history lesson of all time?" He asks, tone light.

Madi nods urgently. "Yeah. This had better be good. I feel like you've talked it up."

He laughs. "My sister used to love these stories but I guess she didn't have any better offers."

Madi giggles a little. "You joining us, Clarke?" She turns to ask.

Clarke pauses. She bites her lip. She wonders what the correct answer is, here. If Bellamy is giving her daughter a history tutoring session as a favour, she figures she should probably not get in the way.

But damn it, she misses him. And something shifted, there, in that conversation about meeting for lunch. There was more genuine closeness there than they have managed since they started living this quiet life - she could swear it.

"I should let you get on with it." She says, in the end. "But I'll just be in the kitchen. Bellamy's going to join us for supper. You can tell me what I missed then."

Is she imagining it, or does Bellamy's face fall? No, that's a ridiculous suggestion.

"Thanks for the supper invitation." He reiterates.

She smiles a little. "Don't thank me yet. You haven't tried eating it. I think I'm a better leader and doctor than cook. We might have to try your place when we meet for lunch." She says carefully. She's not sure why she bothers, really. Is she just trying to remind herself that they really did make vague plans? Trying to check that she did not only dream his desire to hang out with her more often?

He grins. "Don't look at me. Last time I was left to oversee food the smoking shed burnt down."

She laughs. That wasn't at all funny at the time - she remembers it well. But in this moment it is good to share laughter with him once more.

She sends Madi and Bellamy on their way, then, and heads to the kitchen to work on supper. She has to admit that cooking is just one of the many aspects of a quiet life that does not suit her. She has no enthusiasm for chopping carrots into fine dice or stirring beans in a pot. She has hardly lived a life that has allowed her to see food as a pleasure - it has only ever been a means of survival. But she finds that the task is marginally more interesting to her, today, as she looks at it as the means to an end of spending more time with Bellamy.

When supper is nearly ready, she moves to set the table. That takes her rather closer to the living room, where Madi and Bellamy are sitting for their history lesson, and she finds that she can hear snatches of their conversation. They're talking about _five good emperors_ , now, it seems. Clarke hasn't heard of that before. She thinks it sounds like one of the bands from Earth before the bombs.

"And then there's Hadrian. He's famous for building a wall and openly having a male lover." Bellamy offers.

Clarke's ears prick up. This sounds interesting. From what she knows of old Earth history, relationships between two men were frowned on for much of it. She's edging nearer the door, about to go in and join them, when the conversation turns sharply in a different direction.

"He also made beards fashionable." Bellamy says. "He was the first emperor not to be clean-shaven."

"So no one had beards before that?" Madi asks, evidently fascinated. Clarke stifles a giggle. She supposes it is a good thing that she and her daughter have grown up in worlds where you can love whoever you love, to the extent that she thinks that is just normal, and beards of all things are far more of a controversial topic.

"Some people did, of course." Bellamy says. "But it wasn't fashionable for the Roman upper classes."

"You didn't used to have a beard, either." Madi comments carefully.

Clarke holds her breath. She should have gone into the room when she was planning to a few seconds ago, damn it. But she can't walk in now when Madi is grilling Bellamy about his facial hair choices. Apart from anything else, that's sure to end with Clarke staring at his chin in a way that is a million miles from platonic.

Bellamy doesn't sound too bothered by Madi's impertinent curiosity. "No. I didn't. I've been wondering about shaving it off again, actually."

"Good idea. Clarke liked you better without it." Madi offers.

Right. No. Clarke has to go in there now, however awkward it will be. She cannot in all good conscience stand idly by and let Bellamy think it matters to her whether he has a beard or not. He's _Bellamy_. She doesn't care what's on his chin.

Does he care whether she liked him better without it?

No. That's a silly question. She just needs to get in there and steer this conversation back to Roman history.

"Madi. You mustn't say things like that." Clarke chides her, walking straight into the room. "I'm sorry - I was setting the table and I couldn't help overhearing. Whether you have a beard or not is no one's business but your own." She tells Bellamy firmly.

He laughs a little, but it sounds strained. "But honestly, as a good friend, would you say it suits me or not?"

She swallows. She did not come in here for this conversation. She came in here for the exact opposite, in fact - she came in here to steer them back to emperors.

"As a good friend, I'm telling you it doesn't matter." She insists. "You're still you. Grow a beard or shave it off, you're still Bellamy."

Silence sits. Clarke swallows heavily. She has a feeling she probably sounded more passionate about that than she should have done. Probably she's not supposed to get worked up about facial hair choices if she's pretending that she has only platonic feelings for her _good friend_ Bellamy.

"I think I will shave it off." He says slowly. "I've been wondering about it for a long time. I have a razor waiting in the bathroom and everything. But somehow I haven't quite got round to it."

"Why did you grow it in the first place?" Madi pipes up. Clarke startles a little. She had quite forgotten her daughter was here.

"Because there was a time in space when I didn't much like looking at myself in the mirror." He tells the carpet near his toes.

Clarke swallows. She knows that feeling well. And she wonders if some of that is still what's holding him back from shaving, or whether perhaps there is some other fear at play here.

Whether maybe there is more than only lunch that she can offer him.

"D'you want a hand with it?" She asks, carefully casual. "Might be easier with another pair of eyes. I could help you out when I come over for lunch." She suggests. She's aware that shaving is hardly the most challenging task in the world, traditionally. But she senses that Bellamy is finding it rather difficult all the same.

"You - you'd do that?" He asks, obviously flustered.

"Yeah. Sure. I figure I owe you a favour for this history lesson." She tells him.

He nods cautiously. "OK then. If you're sure it's no bother."

"It's not." She hesitates, wonders if this is the time to move the conversation back in a slightly lighter direction. "But don't take this as a sign that I have an opinion on it - like I said, you're still you whichever you choose." She says, half teasing, half deadly serious.

He nods, grins a little. "Noted. You have no opinions about beards at all. Is that only in reference to me, or do you have nothing to say about Hadrian, too?"

She snorts out a laugh. It's hardly the funniest thing he's ever said, but she's not spent enough quality time with him recently and she's missed the way he makes her laugh.

"I'm going to finish setting the table." She announces, rather than rising to his challenge. "You've got five minutes to finish up your lesson. That OK?"

Two matching, eager nods. Clarke retreats back to the table setting, faffs with a few forks.

Supper that night is the best meal she has eaten in a long time. And she doesn't think that's because she's suddenly got any better at cooking beans. Company, she thinks, really is the best seasoning.

….

Clarke isn't sure what to expect when she presents herself at Bellamy's quarters the following lunchtime. For one thing, she's not sure whether he was joking when he said he couldn't cook or whether they honestly will be eating a makeshift meal of bread and dried fruit.

There's that, and there's the fact she really doesn't know what to expect from helping him shave. Strangely enough she hasn't helped the love of her life trim his beard before now.

Things get off to a good start. Bellamy greets her with a lingering hug, gestures warmly for her to come on in. She can do this. It's just Bellamy. They have spent plenty of time together before now.

It's just that they haven't often spent time together with her touching his face. In fact she could swear the last time she had a hand on his cheek was the day the death wave burned.

"You OK?" He asks, as he leads the way down the hall. "Good morning?"

"Quiet." She says shortly.

He nods. "Mine too. I'm still getting used to it."

She looks up, curious. Is she not the only one dealing with some difficulties adjusting? "Still getting used to everything being so quiet?" She prompts.

"Yeah."

"Me too." She offers, cautious. "I don't really know what my role is now."

To her surprise, he laughs. "You're Clarke. You can always find something useful to do. You might not be saving the human race these days but you still seem to be filling your days with helping your friends to shave."

She chuckles nervously. "Not all my friends. You're the only person I've offered shaving help to."

He smiles slightly. "Yeah? Shall we get started?"

She nods, swallows hard. As it happens, she really has no idea what she's doing here. She's never helped a guy shave before - why would she have done? But she sure as hell isn't going to back out of a chance to cup Bellamy's chin her hand and run a finger over his cheek.

"You said you had a razor?" She prompts, following him into the living room. "Do you have soap and water?"

"All ready for you." He gestures to a basin and a towel and a razor.

She gulps. She is so not ready for this. And of course, her life has been something of a succession of disasters she wasn't ready for. But this, of all things, is something she would like to have been prepared for. Facing her feelings is something she has always found particularly frightening.

"Then I guess you need to take a seat." She suggests.

He does as she asks. He looks up at her, wearing half a smile.

"You sure you want me to take it all off?" She asks. Perhaps she's stalling for time, just a little.

"Certain. Get stuck in." He recommends.

Get stuck in. Wow. She makes a start with the soap, tries to focus on getting a good lather rather than aimlessly stroking his cheeks. He'll think it's weird if she does that, and then she supposes she won't get any more of these lunch invitations she's so excited about. And once she's happy with the soap situation, she makes the first careful slice through the hair on his cheek with the razor.

She's been working in silence for a couple of minutes when Bellamy speaks up.

"Now Madi's not here, am I going to get an honest answer to the question of whether you prefer me with or without the beard?"

She gasps. She can't believe he just went there. They've spent all this time keeping a careful distance in their relationship. Surely he understands that what he just asked is not a platonic question?

Maybe he does, a small and impossibly optimistic voice whispers in her mind. Maybe he realises _exactly_ what he's asking.

"Why do you ask?" She presses, quiet, careful.

He swallows. She looks at him. There is nothing comfortable about this at all, now, for all that this lunch date started so easily.

"Because sometimes - sometimes I could swear you used to look at me differently, before Praimfaya." He mutters. "I know that's more likely because I left you than because of the beard, but - but I can't take back what I did. I can shave off the beard."

She nods. It seems he does know what he's asking, she realises. _I could swear you used to look at me differently_ is definitely not a friendly thing to say.

"I guess - it was tempting for me to fixate on the beard." She says, throat dry. "You looked so different, sometimes I could pretend you were a different guy. Just a different man called Bellamy, rather than - than _my_ Bellamy, come back with a new girlfriend and then betraying me and hurting my daughter." He opens his mouth to speak, but she raises a hand to stop him. "So in that sense, I guess I will always have a soft spot for you clean shaven. But I know I will never forget waking up to your face after you rescued me from Josephine. Your face with your beard, but also with your eyes and your smile. So - I meant it, when I said I don't care either way. You're still Bellamy." She gathers her courage. "I still love you."

He gasps. He sits there, frozen, for one heart-stopping moment. And then he's moving, all at once, shrugging her hand aside and reaching up to kiss her, pressing his lips to hers, tangling his hand in her hair to pull her closer.

She laughs against his mouth, drops the razor somewhere behind her. She can retrieve it later. She can't say she's ever fancied kissing someone half-shaven before now, and it makes for a strange texture against her face, half soft beard, a few stray bristles, some of his skin already smooth. There's the taste of soap, too, and really the whole experience ought to be unpleasant, she's pretty sure.

Needless to say, it isn't unpleasant at all. It's _stunning_. This is Bellamy, kissing her after all these years, and she's almost ready to describe it as worth waiting for.

Almost.

She did end up waiting a very long time.

She pulls away after a couple of minutes. Just because she thinks it's sensible, really. She thinks that she ought to finish shaving his face before they take this any further, that ingesting soap is probably not that good for her, that treading on the razor would be uncomfortable at best and possibly cut her foot, if she gets the angle wrong. Even at her happiest, she cannot resist thinking too hard.

Bellamy grins up at her, soapy and half-shaven and utterly joyful.

"I love you too. In case that wasn't clear."

She laughs, a warm, full sound. She bends to press a kiss to his forehead, because she figures that's something she can do, now.

"Sit still." She chastises him - but affectionately. "You need to let me finish this before we try that again."

"But do I really?" He whines teasingly.

"Yes." She says firmly. "Stop fidgeting. I'm going to finish this, and then we're going to eat lunch, and then we're going to figure out how to live this quiet life together."

He smiles. "I'd like that. But there's a problem with your plan."

"There is?"

"Yeah. We're going to need to head to the bedroom before we eat lunch."

She grins. "I won't say no to that."

"You don't fancy arguing for your plan just for old time's sake?" He teases.

She snorts out a laugh. "No. Just this once I'll let you have it."

There's a beat of silence. She darts her eyes away from her careful shaving, just for a moment, just to notice that Bellamy is gazing at her warmly. Is he about to kiss her again, she wonders? Should she be prepared to drop her razor out of the way and admit defeat?

That's not what he's planning, it turns out. She realises this when he simply reaches up to place a gentle hand on the curve of her hip.

"This OK?" He asks softly. "I don't want to distract you or - or pester you. But I just want to hold you." He explains, sounding over half way to wrecked, she thinks.

"It's perfect." She agrees. "It's lovely just to have you touching me. Comforting."

It's calming, too. Peaceful. It gives her something safe and steady to focus on rather than worrying about what her purpose is, now, or wondering how they have managed to go so long without a new disaster.

It's not that she has suddenly figured out how to live a quiet life. That is not something she can learn in one lunch date, she's pretty sure. And yet, as she feels the reassuring weight of Bellamy's hand resting at her hip, she finds herself struck by a certain confidence.

With him by her side, they will figure out how to live a quiet life together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
